


Five Times Merlin's Potions Led to Disaster (and The One Time They Didn't)

by brightem28



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Era, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Potions Accident, Spells & Enchantments, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightem28/pseuds/brightem28
Summary: When Merlin decides to take up potion-making, the results are ... not quite what he expected. With Gaius's assistance though, he is determined to keep trying, even if there are a few misunderstandings along the way.Featuring an overly optimistic Gaius, a few magical mishaps, and one very disgruntled Arthur.OrThe five times Merlin's potions led to disaster and the one time they didn't.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 399





	Five Times Merlin's Potions Led to Disaster (and The One Time They Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks! This is just a bit of fun! Completely unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

It had started with Gaius’s idea.

Inspiration had struck as the two sat in the apothecary, Merlin reading from his book of spells and Gaius standing over a bubbling cauldron with two beakers in hand. 

“You know, Merlin,” Gaius had said, breaking the calm silence, “I think it’s time you knew how to make potions.”

Merlin’s head snapped up, “For what, like healing?”

Gaius raised an eyebrow, “And others.”

Merlin jumped to his feet, striding over. His eyes shifted to the door before he whispered excitedly, “You mean like magic?”

Gaius nodded with a knowing smile, “I do.”

It’s true that up until that point, Merlin had … _overlooked_ opportunities to practice potion-making. The leather spellbook Gaius had given to him his first days in Camelot featured a whole section dedicated to the art. Merlin had always skipped over it, finding that the method of protecting Arthur didn’t matter much in the end; that a rightfully timed falling branch could be just as effective as any elaborate spell of disease or destruction. The series of love potions that seemed to parade in with each visiting princess had made them more of a nuisance than anything else in Merlin's experience.

Gaius had been adamant, however, eager to pass on his knowledge about the fine art of chopping ingredients and controlling the heat of the fire. After seeing the spark that came to his mentor’s eyes, Merlin had agreed to the extra lessons, that same thrum of nervous excitement curling in his stomach when it came to his magic.

So Merlin had ruffled through his spellbook, leafing through hundreds of potions for ones he might find useful. His eyes had fallen on one colored a soothing pink. Intricate gold lettering spelled out the potion’s name, crisp black letters detailing that it "increased the user’s ability to spot fine details" and "elevated concentration". 

Merlin had dog-eared the page, referring back to it when it was announced another family of visiting nobles would prompt a celebratory feast. Time at Arthur’s side had taught him that Camelot’s visitors were to be treated with a healthy dose of suspicion, bringing with them anything from idle gossip to elaborate attempts to dismantle the kingdom. Figuring a bit of extra caution was welcomed, Merlin had stood crouched over the bubbling cauldron left to him by Gaius, adding sprigs of rosemary and peppermint with a scrunch of his nose. 

Merlin had tipped the potion’s contents into a glass vial to cool. After a guard came to request his presence for the feast, Merlin had unstopped the vial, draining the potion with a quick gulp. The liquid had a slightly earthy taste from the numerous herbs but otherwise had been tame.

Merlin now stood at his usual position behind Arthur, a pitcher of wine in hand as he looked upon the usual extravagance Camelot spent on impressing its guests. Lord Hardinge and his daughter, the Lady Delwyn, sat awkwardly across the table, shifting in their layers of expensive fabric. Merlin idly thought the Lady Delwyn resembled a pheasant in early spring, the collar of her orange sequined dress bursting from her neckline and flashingly aimed in Arthur’s direction. 

Merlin tuned out the usual chatter from the table, instead trying to distinguish any change in his attention. So far the potion seemed for naught and he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that his first try appeared to be a bust. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a barked “Merlin.”

Of course, it was Arthur. An expectant hand held his goblet to the side, the impatience in his tone implying that he had been waiting for some time. Merlin hurriedly stepped to Arthur’s side.

While subtle, Merlin could see the way Arthur was slumped in his seat, his formal table manners ingrained too early within him for him to fully lose them at court. However, there were the usual signs of his discomfort, like the way Arthur’s fingers drummed a steady rhythm against his glass and the tiny flicks of his chin as his gaze kept flickering to the banquet’s doors. Merlin reached to start filling his glass.

“Lord Hardinge is looking just as trussed up as the cook’s hen,” he muttered, his lips brushing against Arthur’s ear as he leaned over his shoulder. He felt a swell of pride when he saw Arthur’s lips twitch, his posture relaxing as they both eyed Lord Hardinge and the excess of silks and furs crocheted around him. 

“That would imply you’re paying any attention at all, Merlin,” Arthur said lowly. “Tell me, is your negligence as my servant something you practice or does it come naturally?”

“Just one of my many talents, sire,” Merlin grinned. 

Arthur leaned further back, propping his chin in a way that hid his mouth when he spoke, “I rather thought the Lady Delwyn looked like she stumbled out of one of Morgana’s jewelry boxes.”

Merlin felt an answering grin tug at his lips. As he opened his mouth to respond, he glanced back at Lady Delwyn and felt the words suddenly die in his throat. 

It was just … the Lady Delwyn was suddenly _radiant_. It was an unexpected discovery, but one that seemed to bowl over him with the sudden weight of its revelation. It even hurt to stare at her for too long, his attention caught on the sparkling jewels of her dress. They reflected the banquet’s candles in a way Merlin had never seen before, reminding him of how the sun bounced off the surface of a bubbling brook on a summer’s day. It captivated his attention with such sudden intensity that for a moment his mind was blank of nothing else.

“Merlin!” Merlin jumped, eyes falling back to where the wine was now spilling over the edges of Arthur’s goblet and staining the sleeves of his jacket. Merlin jerked his arm back, fumbling with the pitcher as its contents sloshed over the side.

“What is wrong with you tonight?” Arthur whispered, trying to discreetly shake his wrist out under the cover of the table. 

“I-I just…” Merlin stuttered, eyes once again drawn to the fine details of Lady Delwyn’s dress. Merlin felt the breath sweep out of him, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he stared in wonder. He felt Arthur shift beside him, following his gaze to Lady Delwyn.

 _“Beautiful,”_ Merlin whispered with feeling.

“Are you talking about her?" Arthur asked incredulously. There was a sudden edge to his tone that made Merlin frown. Couldn’t he see it too?

In a daze, Merlin felt himself wander from Arthur’s side, a sharp, “Merlin” thrown at his back as he traveled around the table to stop by the Lady Delwyn’s side. Up close, Merlin could appreciate even more how the jewels sparkled with each shake of her shoulders as she laughed at something Morgana had said. 

“Oh, another refill please,” Lady Delwyn waved at him. Merlin felt himself move automatically at the instruction, eyes lingering on the patterns of gems that decorated her sleeve. Across the table, Arthur’s face shifted between a mix of bewilderment and anger, his grip on the goblet now whitening his knuckles. Despite knowing he would pay later for abandoning his station, Merlin stayed by the Lady Delwyn’s side for the rest of the feast, his eyes never straying from the radiance of her gown.

. . .

“It was a disaster.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Gaius, I spent the entire night by Lady Delwyn’s side instead of Arthur’s!” Merlin flapped his hand around, “Lord Hardinge even complimented Uther on how _attentive_ his servants were.”

Gaius chuckled and Merlin gave him his best half-hearted glare. “It was your first potion,” Gaius said simply, “The fact that it had any magical effect at all is impressive.”

Merlin groaned, “It didn’t even do what the book said it would!”

“Yes, well, the art of potion-making is based on precision and the utmost focus, which I daresay are two things you’ve often struggled with,” Gaius said with a knowing look. Merlin pursed his lips, dragging a finger down an invisible crack on the table. He heaved a sigh.

“So you’re saying I just need to keep trying?”

“Precisely so,” Gaius replied, setting a plate of bread and cheese in front of him. “Now eat up, you’ll need your strength for today.” 

Merlin looked up with a grateful smile, “Thanks, Gaius.”

“Of course, my boy,” he said warmly.

. . .

Merlin took Gaius’s words to heart and scrambled together another potion after delivering Arthur his breakfast. The spoiled prat had been especially grumpy that morning, sending Merlin glares that seemed to suggest he had ruined his favorite sword instead of waking him in time to meet with the council. 

The potion had turned out oddly clear, the poppy seeds Merlin added floating in a congealed film on top. The book had declared the potion would "raise one’s awareness of potential dangers", something Merlin felt could be useful based on the almost impressive talent Arthur had for finding himself in life-threatening situations. The potion had been tasteless, although the texture was gritty and Merlin was sure there would be poppy seeds in his teeth for the rest of the day.

Unlike the last potion, Merlin felt the effects soon after the vial left his lips. As he ran down the corridors to meet Arthur at the training grounds, he skidded to a halt. Why was he running? He thought with horror. He could have crashed into someone walking the other way. His mind jumped to the pointed staffs the patrol guards always carried, a shiver of fear running down his spine - one mishap and he could have been skewered.

Despite knowing this new paranoia was likely just an effect from the potion, Merlin switched to a slow tiptoe, checking both ways between hallways and around sharp corners. By the time he reached the training grounds, Arthur had already started drilling the knights through their usual warm-ups. Merlin wandered to the edge of the field, eyes trained on Arthur as he moved through the practices. 

Not that he would ever admit it to Arthur - his ego was big enough as it is - there was an undeniable elegance with which Arthur led his knights. His movements were steady and sure, each one the result of natural skill and a lifetime of hard work. It was in these moments that Merlin could recognize the leader Arthur would become, the type of man who could unite a kingdom with the same attuned awareness and firm hand.

Merlin’s thoughts were shattered as a sudden cling rang through the field. He jumped, heart suddenly pounding in his chest and mind racing as if he had been shocked.

Out on the field, Arthur looked to have challenged one of his knights to a practice duel. His opponent was Sir Aytone, a man who had been in the knight’s ranks for years and was a trusty servant to Camelot and its crown. Nonetheless, Merlin couldn’t help but jolt with each strike the two fighters made at each other. Unable to distinguish his own feelings from the potion’s paranoia, it seemed to Merlin that Sir Aytone was fighting with a newfound fervor, his movements radiating destructive intent. 

Merlin knew that Arthur was a skilled fighter. He knew that for every threat Arthur had faced, the man had not only risen to the challenge but had come out victorious on the other side. 

But it was like that voice had been muffled behind an overwhelming dark cloud. Now, Merlin could only react instinctively to the dangers Arthur faced, cataloging how each swipe of his opponent's blade could have resulted in a serious wound, a rupture to a vital organ, even death. 

It was nauseating, standing there as he watched Arthur dance with his fate. Merlin looked desperately at the other knights, hoping to see his own concern reflected to him. Instead, they appeared painfully neutral, some even smiling and ribbing the other when one of them made a well-timed block. _Were the knights in on it as well?_ Merlin thought desperately. _Could Arthur’s own knights have turned against him?_

The realization seemed so startlingly obvious Merlin chastised himself for not thinking of it sooner. How had he never questioned the knights? He had always been suspicious of Camelot’s visitors, but not of those who lived within the castle’s walls, who were close to Arthur and had already gained his trust. It was a dizzying thought and the name choked out of him.

“Arthur!”

Arthur stumbled and Merlin’s heart jumped with it. However, Arthur used the momentum to get close to Sir Aytone, sliding his blade into a maneuver that left him clanking the flat end against the knight’s unprotected side. The knights clapped appreciatively as Arthur turned towards Merlin, his arm coming up to brush off the sweat where his hair had gone damp.

“So you decided to show up after all,” Arthur called towards him, slightly winded. Merlin ignored the jab, rushing to Arthur’s side as fast as his feet could carry him. The second he reached him he grabbed him by the shoulder, pushing at him to turn around.

 _“Excuse me,”_ Arthur huffed. Merlin ignored his scandalized tone, taking a closer look at the straps on his armor.

“Who did this?” he asked curtly.

“Well since you were late as usual, I had to have Hale put my armor on for me.” Arthur waved to one of the nearby squires, Merlin glowering over his shoulder. Hale was busy helping the other knights out of their armor as the training session disbanded for a break.

“You could have waited for me.”

Arthur scoffed, “If we waited on you, Merlin, we would have been here forever.” 

He let out a deep exhale as Merlin loosened the straps, Merlin scowling at how tightly they had been adjusted.

“You need to be more careful,” Merlin murmured seriously. _“Hale_ put your armor on too tight and limited your mobility, surely you must have felt it?” He tried his best not to sound too bitter.

Merlin spun Arthur around to reveal a quizzical expression on his face as he moved to the other straps on his arm pieces. 

“Were you worried about me?” Arthur teased, his tone light and joking, but Merlin wasn’t having it. 

“Yes, sire,” he said seriously. He paused his movements to meet Arthur’s eyes. 

Arthur faltered, searching his gaze for a tense moment before he looked away again. He fiddled with one of his gauntlets, his tone suddenly overly casual. “So how is the Lady Delwyn doing?”

The question caught Merlin off-guard. “...I’m not sure, my lord, but I can go summon her if you’d like?” he answered slowly. He tried to ignore the twist in his gut - it wouldn’t be the first time Arthur had shown interest in one of the visiting nobles.

“I just figured that’s why you were late. You seemed quite captivated with her last night.”

It was Merlin’s turn to falter, “Wait, what?”

Arthur looked up, rolling his eyes slightly, “As your employer, I can’t tell you what to do about … personal matters, but if you wish to court someone I would prefer if you didn’t do it _at your station.”_

Merlin shook his head vigorously, “I didn’t!” At Arthur's unimpressed stare, he held his hands up, “I wouldn’t!”

Arthur gave a humorless laugh, “Please Merlin, I’m not an idiot, I saw you staring at her the whole night.”

“No, no! You got it all wrong,” Merlin rushed out, “I just thought her dress was lovely!”

Arthur blanched, “Her _dress?”_

“Yes!” Merlin breathed out, then tensed, “Wait, no --”

Arthur’s mouth was already twisting into a grin, “I know I’ve always called you a girl before...” 

“It’s just - No, I-I was talking to Gwen, and --”

Arthur put his hands up, shaking his head with a laugh, "Your secret is safe with me, I won't judge what you do in your free time.”

Merlin rolled his eyes to the sky, “Arthur…”

“Merlin,” he parroted back, his grin far too smug.

“Listen, you prat --” Merlin’s words trailed off, his gaze flickering to the moving figure behind Arthur’s shoulder.

It was Hale, bringing some of the training swords back to the armory. Merlin’s mind raced. What could he be doing?

Arthur shifted awkwardly, glancing back over his shoulder, “What? Has another _dress_ caught your fancy?”

Merlin shoved past him. “Sorry, sire!” he blurted out, racing in the direction he saw Hale going. “Gaius called! I have to uh, go collect some herbs!”

“What? Merlin!”

He was halfway across the field when he heard Arthur shout again, “Gaius isn’t even out here!”

. . .

So the second potion had worked a little too well. Merlin figured there were worse mistakes. Though even he could admit the potion had been far from helpful, making him paranoid of some of Arthur’s most trusted subjects and sending him on a wild goose chase that did nothing but waste his afternoon.

When he tried again the next day, Merlin made sure to pay extra attention to the way he prepared the ingredients, using Gaius’s advice to grind them instead of chopping. He incanted a few spells, watching the liquid turn a shimmering blue before he took an experimental swig.

He blanched at the tingling sensation it left in his mouth before turning to Gaius. He walked over carefully, swinging his arm in front of his face before Gaius swatted it away with a huff.

“What are you doing, Merlin?” he demanded, giving him an unimpressed look, and Merlin deflated.

“You can see me?”

Gaius raised an eyebrow, “Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?”

Merlin groaned, “It was supposed to be an invisibility potion but it seems I can’t even do that right,” he said sullenly, collapsing into one of the wooden chairs.

 _“An invisibility potion?”_ Gaius exclaimed, making Merlin flail. “Do you know how unpredictable that kind of magic is? Even those who have been practicing potion-making for years don’t attempt them. They’re far too dangerous!”

Merlin winced, eyeing the bubbling cauldron with guilt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Gaius let out a small sigh, “Just be grateful the spell didn’t work. You’re lucky a botched potion was the worst to come out of it.”

Chastised, Merlin spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning out the cauldron and writing a note to himself in the pages of his spellbook. By the time he was done, a summons came to request his help in packing the horses for another one of Arthur’s hunting trips. 

“Oh, don’t look so grim, Merlin,” Arthur chaffed, patting the bags Merlin was trying to tie to the horse’s saddle. They stood in the courtyard, Arthur looking far too cheerful for a man about to go kill something. He gave the bags another good whap before turning his face to bask in the sun, “An afternoon out in the woods will do everyone a bit of good.”

“Tell that to the deer and rabbits,” Merlin muttered under his breath. Without opening his eyes, Arthur landed a punch to his shoulder.

“ _Ow,_ prat.

Arthur let out a dramatic sigh, “Are you done yet Merlin? We’ll be there by nightfall at this rate.” Merlin rolled his eyes, not needing to see the pout on Arthur’s face to know it was there.

“In due time, _my lord,_ these things can be tricky,” he said with forced cheer.

“Are you saying you’ve been outwitted by a bit of hunting gear?” Arthur taunted, striding away to pull himself up onto his horse.

Merlin pulled tight at a strap, “A _bit?”_ he exclaimed, “You made me pack half the armory!” 

Arthur shrugged, unbothered. “It’s nice to be prepared.” 

He shifted around in his seat, a furrowed crease forming between his brows. “Merlin, you didn’t happen to change my saddle, did you?” 

Merlin paused in his silent cursing before glancing up. “I did, sire. You complained that your old one left you sore so I talked with the stablehand to commission you a new one.”

Arthur looked taken-aback, his horse shuffling underneath him as he floundered for words. Finally, he gave a firm nod. “Very good. It seems you’re useful for some things, even if I hate to admit it.”

Merlin grinned cheekily up at him, “Was that a compliment, sire?”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“I’m just looking out for the royal _assets,”_ Merlin teased, avoiding the kick Arthur aimed at him. He walked behind Arthur, finishing the last of the ties as he heard one of the knights come over with a question. He double-checked his work before walking back to Arthur, waiting for his command.

Above him, Arthur looked worried, scanning the courtyard as if looking for someone. Just as Merlin was about to ask who, Arthur turned to the knight beside him, “Have you seen Merlin?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to tell Arthur to drop the joke when he suddenly had a sinking feeling. His thoughts flew to the botched invisibility potion he’d taken hours ago, one that may not have been as ineffective as he had thought.

“I’m not sure, sire,” the knight replied, sounding confused, “I saw him a few minutes ago. It’s like he disappeared.” 

“Has anyone seen Merlin?” someone called out. There was a chorus of “no’s”, someone even saying they saw him leave through the main gates. Merlin pressed his lips together, not wanting to make a sound in case he was discovered. He gazed back at Arthur, surprised to see that he seemed genuinely distressed.

Just as quickly though, Arthur’s expression turned blank. “Nevermind then, he’s probably at the tavern,” he scowled. “Finish with the horses then we’ll ride out.”

Merlin wanted to protest - Arthur was leaving? _Without him?_

Merlin’s magic burst from him in a fit of panic, the ties he had spent so much time on unraveling and sending the gear clattering to the floor. Metal crashed against stone, echoing across the courtyard and causing everyone to cringe.

“For the love of --” Arthur gritted, placing a hand over his eyes, “That’s it. The hunt’s called off. Have the stablehands return the horses.”

Merlin didn’t have time to wallow in his victory. Instead, as everyone was distracted, he fled back into the castle and locked himself in his room.

. . .

To Merlin’s relief, the effects of the potion wore off only a few hours later. There had been a moment of panic when he wondered if it would be irreversible, but when Gaius entered the apothecary a while later his gaze fell on Merlin right away. Merlin tried not to look too relieved as Gaius told him he would be visiting a patient overnight in the lower town, figuring the potion mishap was better left in the past.

As Gaius left with his medical bag, Merlin couldn’t help but deflate in his absence.

It was inevitable that he would be feeling a bit defeated after three consecutive failures, but Gaius had been nothing if not persistent in encouraging Merlin to continue his education. 

“Try not to see them as failures, Merlin, but as steps in your progress towards mastery,” he had told him.

Which was all sound advice, only Merlin couldn’t help but take it a bit personally when everything he brewed seemed to backfire in the most unexpected of ways. Somberly, Merlin opened his spellbook, eyes falling on an illustration of a red vial. _Crescrite Fedentia_ was written in script at the top.

“A potion to increase feelings of self-efficacy and embolden one’s confidence,” Merlin read aloud. He glanced at the front door of the apothecary. He had already asked Eda in the kitchens that morning to bring Arthur his dinner, so he figured he had a few uninterrupted hours.

It was with this reassurance that Merlin gathered the necessary materials, mixing them together to make a deep red concoction that smelled oddly of cinnamon. He gazed into the empty vial after gulping it down, feeling a sudden burst of triumph like a tingling sensation through his body. He had done it - the potion appeared to be a success.

With a grin, Merlin returned the vial to its cabinet with a flick of his magic. It went sailing through the air, landing perfectly on its stand with a soft clink. Feeling further emboldened, Merlin turned back to the room, letting his magic rush freely from his fingertips in a way he so rarely had before. It swept through the room in a gust of wind, swirling like a cyclone and vibrating with uncontained joy.

It was like music to Merlin’s ears.

His eyes flicked over the mess of vials, ingredients, and papers scattered across the table. With a thought, he had the items scrambling over themselves as they were sorted into their rightful place. While he was at it, Merlin also gave a pointed look to the broom and mop in the corner, his eyes flashing gold before the two sprung to life. As if directed by invisible hands, they started to scrub the floor.

Merlin grinned at the orchestra around him when he was suddenly interrupted by a pounding knock at the door. Normally, Merlin’s heart would have frozen at the idea of someone walking in on his magic, but now all he felt was a tranquil calm. He had been living in Camelot for years - he knew how to avoid suspicion. 

With a blink of his eyes, his magic paused, the broom and mop flying back to their corner and the table now carefully organized. He strode over to the door, flinging it open. 

He tilted his head, “Arthur?”

 _“Merlin,”_ Arthur replied, overly sweet. The tight smile slipped off his face as he shoved past him, Merlin inhaling sharply as their shoulders brushed. Arthur stomped into the room as he slowly closed the door behind him.

Merlin stood by the door, watching as Arthur paced around the room. “Did you need something, sire?”

Arthur paused and barked out a laugh. “Yes, actually,” he gritted, “You see, there was something I’ve been missing all day.”

He stalked closer and Merlin felt a shiver race through him. Arthur had always had a commanding presence, but when he was angry, he carried with him a new level of intensity.

He didn’t flinch when Arthur invaded his space, his eyes flickering down to watch Arthur’s lips as he continued, “I was wondering, Merlin, if you happened to know where it is?”

Merlin licked his own lips unconsciously. “That depends, sire. What is it you need?” If Arthur noticed the rasp in Merlin’s voice, he didn’t react.

“Oh, I don’t know, _my manservant?”_ He spat. Arthur turned around, throwing his arms up. “First it was the banquet, then the training grounds, and don’t get me started on the disaster of a hunting trip.” 

He whirled around, placing a hand on his hip as he pointed a finger in Merlin’s direction, “And then, a complete stranger comes to deliver me my dinner. Tell me, Merlin, do you even have any idea of what it means to be a manservant? Because I’m starting to think you need a reminder, starting with you mucking out my stables.” Arthur paused, chest heaving.

Normally, Merlin would have conceded, taking the extra work if it meant appeasing Arthur's mood, but the potion running through him made him bolder. He ran Arthur’s words through his head, a smirk forming as he took a careful step forward. Arthur was panting just slightly from his tirade and likely from stomping down an entire flight of stairs to get here. Merlin drank in the sight of his dishevelment.

“So you need me?” he asked slyly.

Arthur jerked slightly back, “...As my manservant, yes.”

Merlin hummed, cocking his head. He took another step forward. “No Arthur, I don’t think that’s entirely true." His eyes fell to Arthur’s throat as he saw him swallow. “What absolute rubbish are you talking about?” he asked, but the words came out dry.

“It’s just, _sire,_ ” Merlin let the title drawl from his lips, “I don’t think most masters would show this much concern over their servants.” He crowded into Arthur’s space, tilting his head just over Arthur’s shoulder and feeling his own breath catch at the proximity, “Asking me about who I’m courting, coming into my chambers late in the night…” he teased.

Arthur suddenly stilled. “This isn’t funny, Merlin,” he gritted out. Merlin leaned back, noting how Arthur clenched his jaw and the way his chest rose in rapid breaths. A thrill of exhilaration ran through him.

Merlin swayed forward, the potion keeping him from feeling awkward or embarrassed with this new-found confidence. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered softly, soothingly. His gaze flicked up to Arthur’s eyes, his breath leaving him in a rush. “I want you too.”

The words hung fragile between them as they left Merlin’s lips. Merlin felt himself start to grin, a weight he hadn’t even known being lifted from his shoulders as the truth spilled out.

For a moment they stood frozen, Arthur’s breath leaving his nose in short bursts and Merlin’s heart racing, waiting for the moment when the tension would snap. But when Arthur spoke, the words came punched through clenched teeth.

“I will not be treated like a _fool.”_

Merlin flinched at the ice in Arthur’s voice. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Arthur --” he asked, confused.

“Get some new jokes, Merlin,” he gritted, “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” Arthur’s voice was flat, defeated, and Merlin felt like he had suddenly been knocked unbalanced. Arthur walked around him, leaving Merlin gaping at the wall as he heard the door shut with a click.

The silence he left behind was deafening.

Even the effects of the potion couldn’t dampen the sinking feeling in Merlin’s stomach, the consequences of his actions finally coming to light. He took a shuddering breath, hands flying to his hair. What had he just done?

. . .

Merlin awoke the next morning, cringing as memories of the previous night flooded back to him. He felt his face heat up as he recalled the way he had gotten so close to Arthur, pushed so hard at the boundaries between them. He groaned and turned his face into the pillow.

Arthur had taken his confession as a joke. 

Merlin couldn’t blame him for that, really. His behavior had been absurdly out of character so it was only natural that Arthur would think he was mocking him rather than being sincere. Merlin just wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel relieved or disappointed.

An uncomfortable mix of guilt and embarrassment curdled in his stomach. He called to Gaius, asking him to request for another servant to cover his duties for the day so he could take time to sulk. The idea of seeing Arthur made him cringe, and Merin figured the feeling must be mutual with the way Arthur had stormed out the night before. Maybe a day of space would do them good.

Gaius gave him a pointed look, but Merlin must have looked miserable enough because he simply nodded in the end, encouraging him to try and take his mind off of things. The sting of rejection still felt fresh, but Merlin decided to take advantage of his day off, leafing through his spellbook for the most innocent potion he could find.

The one he chose was an earthy green and it bubbled over the cauldron after he added the final sprigs of holly. The description had been innocent enough, saying that the potion made the user "more inquisitive" after a dose. Merlin took a sip before turning to Gaius. 

“Did it work?” he asked hopefully. 

Gaius looked him up and down, “I think that’s an answer only you can tell.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Merlin groaned.

There was a quiet knock at the door. “Um, Merlin?”

Merlin spun around, spotting Gwen’s sheepish face as she leaned through the doorway. Despite his somber mood from that morning, he felt himself start to smile, Gwen just having that effect on people.

“What is it, Gwen?”

She nervously bit her lip. “I was wondering if you could help me bring the laundry to the chambers on the upper floors?” she asked, voice hopeful. 

Merlin nodded, knowing how much work went into preparing and cleaning the chambers of visiting nobility, and Lord Hardinge and the Lady Darwyn had already left that morning. 

“Of course, I’ll just follow you?” Merlin frowned. Without meaning to, his words had lilted up at the end, turning his intended statement into a question. 

“Oh, thank you, Merlin! It’s right this way,” Gwen chirped, oblivious.

Merlin tried again. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Gaius?” He cursed inwardly when the words again came out like an inquiry. Bitterly, he realized that until the potion wore off, he would only be able to speak in questions.

“Yes, Merlin,” Gaius humored him. Merlin gave him a sarcastic nod before following Gwen, figuring as far as potions went this once was harmless as long as he didn’t have to speak too much. 

Gwen was cheerful as always, filling the silence between them with gossip she had heard down in the laundry rooms. She always had an uncanny talent at identifying Merlin’s moods, knowing when he needed a laugh or just someone to listen to. 

To Merlin’s relief, the laundry didn’t take much time with the two of them working together. They had just delivered the last load and Gwen was doing an alarmingly uncanny impression of Lady Earna trying to walk in heels when someone called Merlin’s name from behind them.

Merlin felt himself freeze, Gwen turning beside him. 

“Prince Arthur,” she called, falling into a courtesy, a habit formed from spending so many years at court. Merlin turned around slowly, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“Guinevere,” Arthur nodded. “If you don’t mind, I would like to have a word with my manservant.”

Merlin tried to gauge Arthur’s tone, but it was almost painfully neutral. Gwen glanced over at Merlin and he gave her a small smile. “Can you give us a few minutes, Gwen?”

She nodded, dipping her head towards Arthur, “Of course, my lord.” She turned and walked away, giving Merlin’s hand a small squeeze as she passed.

Merlin shuffled his feet as he and Arthur lapsed into silence. The awkwardness between them felt foreign and uncomfortable, like a shirt that fit too tight, and Merlin wasn’t sure how to navigate it. He cleared his throat politely, “What is it, my lord?”

Arthur scoffed. "Don’t pretend like you respect my title,” he sighed as Merlin kept his eyes trained to the floor.

His tone grew more frustrated, “Oh, would you just --” A finger slipped underneath Merlin’s chin, nudging him to look up and finally meet Arthur’s eyes. 

Arthur stared back as he moved his hand away just as quickly. “It’s not like you’ve ever followed the customs of court before, Merlin, there’s no sense in pretending to be a competent servant now.”

Merlin felt the corner of his mouth twitch, “Would you rather me call you a prat?” 

The return to the familiar seemed to help both of them lose a bit of their stiffness. Arthur’s lips quirked into a smile before he shook himself, taking a deep breath, “About last night…”

Merlin immediately felt his face burn bright red, the blood rushing to his cheeks in hot embarrassment. 

“Oh, did you hear that? I think Gwen’s calling for me, so would you just --” he squeaked, trying to squeeze past Arthur. A hand shot out and stopped him by the shoulder, guiding him back.

“Do you _know_ how hard you’ve been to pin down this week? It’s like every time I turn around you’re finding another excuse to leave.”

Merlin jumped to defend himself, “I’m sorry sire, but could you imagine how busy I’ve been --”

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, raising a hand. Merlin shut his mouth, this time making the effort to really look at Arthur. He was surprised to spot dark shadows under his eyes, and that his hair was sticking up in an unruly way that came from running his fingers through it, something Merlin had only seen him do when he was assessing maps and treaties.

“I just --” Arthur paused, seeming to grasp for words. He deflated again, “Merlin, if you don’t want your position as my manservant, I won't force you to stay.”

Merlin’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt. He blanched as Arthur continued, “If it’s extra time that you want to help Gaius or to… to pursue other endeavors, I would understand,” he said nobly, looking just as uncomfortable as Merlin felt. 

Merlin’s thoughts suddenly came slamming back, _“What?”_

It startled Arthur, his eyes widening. “Is that _not_ what you want?” he asked incredulously. 

“Why would you think I want that?” Merlin sputtered, suddenly and inexplicably angry.

He rolled his eyes, “Well I don’t know Merlin, what _do_ you want? I can’t seem to tell these days!”

Merlin opened his mouth to answer - but whether from the potion or his own fear, no words came out. Arthur stood across from him, arms folded as he waited. As the silence stretched on, Arthur finally took a step back, rubbing a tired hand across his face before looking back in aghast. 

“Why can’t I seem to get a straight answer out of you?”

The words were brittle, almost as if Arthur was speaking them more to himself. They hurt nonetheless, Merlin feeling each one like the twist of a knife in his stomach. The lies, the secrets - it was like they kept piling up and Merlin was drowning in them, unable to find the words to fix whatever this was between them.

Arthur finally shook his head, turning and walking away. As Merlin watched him go, an idea slowly crept to his mind, one that he wasn't sure would work but that he would try nonetheless. 

He had one more potion to make.

. . .

The potion had been difficult. Gaius offered to help him halfway through, instructing Merlin to ground the petals into something finer before being added to the pot. As the contents bubbled over the fire, Merlin stretched out a hand, incanting the words as they were written in his book, making sure to enunciate each one.

When he opened his eyes, it was to see the potion glimmering its intended yellow color and Gaius smiling fondly at him.

“You’ve been improving,” he observed. Even amongst his growing nerves, Merlin couldn’t help but flush with pride.

“You think so?” he grinned.

Gaius chuckled, “You may have had some bumps along the way, but you were persistent. I’m proud of you, Merlin,” he said fondly. 

Merlin squirmed under the attention, “I couldn’t have done it without your help though,” he admitted. He stood up, the vial with the potion clutched close to his chest. “Thank you, Gaius,” he said seriously.

. . .

It was late evening when Merlin found himself standing outside Arthur’s chambers, a tray of food in one hand and the potion in the other. He looked down at the vial and its swirling contents. With a deep breath, Merlin opened it, taking a sip.

The potion left his mouth feeling itchy and he grimaced at the feeling. The aftertaste, though, was much sweeter, reminding him of the honey Arthur liked to mix into his tea. Merlin didn’t feel any different, but he knew what would happen if he tried to say anything but the truth. 

The potion was made to reveal one’s true intentions.

Steeling himself, Merlin opened the doors. “Dinner, sire,” he called out cheerfully. He smirked when he saw Arthur flail from behind his desk.

“Do you ever _knock?”_ Arthur barked. It was a reflexive question, but Merlin felt the truth pulled from him nonetheless. 

“I like to surprise you, keep you on your toes.” Merlin gave him a small smile, waiting to see if Arthur would take the peace offering behind the teasing. Arthur stared at him for a moment before rolling his shoulders, feigning nonchalance.

“I’m a warrior, Merlin, nothing can surprise me.”

Merlin strode over and placed the tray before him. When he reached over to grab the pitcher of wine, he paused, holding it to his chest with his back to Arthur.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me,” he spoke. His words suddenly felt loud and out of place in the quiet room. “About how I’ve been distant lately. About what I want.” Merlin felt his throat click, unable to look at Arthur’s reaction. 

He forced himself to turn around, coming to fill his glass while Arthur’s eyes followed him.

“I have as well,” Arthur finally admitted, “I believe I may have been too harsh, and... I’m sorry.” The words were quiet but unfaltering, and Merlin felt his brows lift in surprise. In all his time at his side, Merlin had learned that Arthur's apologies were few and far between. But when he looked up, Arthur met his gaze steadily, refusing to back down.

“Arthur, what I want --” he began. Merlin felt the magic tug at the words that seemed to catch in his throat. He had known the consequences of taking the potion, but the truth could be a scary thing, especially when he had been running from it for so long. 

Arthur must have seen the battle behind Merlin’s face because he rose carefully out of his chair, walking around the table between them. “Merlin?” he asked curiously.

Merlin took a shuddering breath, letting the potion take over. “I want to protect you, Arthur,” he blurted. Arthur froze, a look of confusion falling over his face.

“I-I want to see you become the King I know you’re destined to be,” he continued quieter. He shook his head, feeling slightly in a daze, “But most of all, I want to be by your side when it happens. As your supporter. Your friend. Someone --” Merlin’s breath hitched, “Someone you can trust.”

Arthur shook his head, “But I do --”

“Arthur,” Merlin interrupted, cutting straight to the heart of the issue. He took another breath. “I have magic.”

His voice didn’t quiver like he imagined it would. The words came out honestly, an admission and a recognition all at once. Merlin didn’t know what to do and he felt frozen in place. Looking at Arthur’s stunned expression, he imagined he wasn’t alone.

“I was born with it,” he rushed on. The silence made him itchy and he found himself hastening to fill it, “A-And I practice it, and I use it, to protect you, Arthur. You and Camelot, but I’m sorry I lied to you. I was afraid of what would happen if you found out. I was afraid you would push me away.” 

“Merlin.” The name was whispered softly, jerking Merlin’s attention to see Arthur gazing ahead, eyes unseeing as he twisted his mother’s ring around his finger. Merlin tensed, waiting for the worst.

Arthur was silent before he turned, his eyes landing on Merlin with a look of concern. “Is this why you’ve been gone all week?” he asked.

Merlin barked out a watery laugh, the jitters and high emotions making him feel slightly unhinged, sensitive like an exposed nerve.

“I’ve been practicing making potions, sire,” Merlin admitted, the title slipping in unnoticed.

Arthur paused, then his lip quirked. “Potions?”

Merlin laughed again, the absurdity that he was having this conversation with _Arthur_ making him feel giddy. “I’m not very good at them,” he admitted.

“So you’re just as rubbish of a sorcerer as you are a servant?” Arthur nudged.

The joke unexpectedly left Merlin wanting to cry. Arthur wasn’t shouting at him or sending him to the pyre, and it filled Merlin with a growing sense of nervous hope. He was grinning like mad and he merely shrugged his shoulders. “I guess so.”

Merlin sucked in another breath though, needing to know the answer, “You’re not angry?”

Arthur looked contemplative as he took a step closer, closing the distance between them. 

“Surprised? Yes,” Arthur admitted. Another step. “And I will need time to adjust to the idea of you being a... _sorcerer.”_ He waved his hand at the word as if it were nonsense. 

Finally, another step, leaving less than a foot of space between them. He met Merlin’s gaze, sure and steady.

“But no, Merlin. I’m not angry. And I promise,” he said pointedly, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, “I will not tell another soul. Your secret is safe with me.”

Merlin was embarrassed to feel tears fall down his face and he wiped at them quickly, grinning back at Arthur. For how long he had ached to hear those words, he wasn’t sure. For Arthur to say them now felt nothing short of a miracle.

“Now is there anything else you’d like to share? Any more life-changing secrets?” Arthur teased. It was a flippant remark, no real intent behind it, but Merlin felt the potion respond to the question with the same fierce intensity. 

“I’m in love with you.”

They both immediately froze. The air felt sucked out of the room and Merlin’s eyes widened, Arthur’s doing the same. 

“Oh my god,” Merlin choked.

Arthur stared at him, dumbfounded. “Did you just --”

“I didn’t mean --”

“No, but you said --”

“It was the potion --”

“The _potion?!”_

“It’s a truth spell!” Merlin cried.

Arthur stared at him incredulously, “You gave yourself a _truth spell?”_

“It seemed like a good idea!” Merlin flailed.

Arthur continued to gape at him, before suddenly bursting into laughter. It echoed brash against the walls, Arthur clutching at his side as he bent over. Merlin scowled watching him, suddenly offended.

“What? What is it?” he demanded.

Arthur straightened up, his shoulders still slightly shaking. Merlin’s frown faltered at the sight of Arthur’s grin, wild and carefree in a way Arthur rarely ever let himself be. There was a healthy flush to his cheeks and his eyes sparkled in the room’s candlelight with unshed tears.

 _“Us,_ Merlin, you and me,” Arthur said it like it was obvious. When Merlin didn’t get it, he rolled his eyes, smiling as he reached out and tugged Merlin against his chest, wrapping his arms loosely around his waist.

Merlin stumbled into the embrace, heart now rabbiting in his chest. “What about us?” he asked, feeling slightly dazed being this close to Arthur. 

“We both have a habit of making things harder than they need to be,” he answered simply.

“What does _that_ mean--” Merlin’s words were cut off as Arthur ducked his head, capturing his mouth in a kiss. Merlin immediately closed his eyes, arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders and pull the two of them closer, bodies aligning. Arthur’s lips were soft as they moved against his own and Merlin chased after them when Arthur finally pulled away. 

Merlin blinked as if coming out of a daze, “Point taken.”

Arthur gave a soft laugh, ducking his head towards Merlin's neck. “I love you too,” he confessed. It made Merlin laugh as well, stumbling with their shifted weight and rattling the still untouched tray of food beside them.

“Oh, I still need to take that down to the kitchens…” Merlin murmured. He lost his train of thought as Arthur turned his head, nipping at the soft skin above his neckerchief. Merlin felt his body arch, responding eagerly to Arthur’s touch.

“Stay,” Arthur whispered, his lips brushing against tingling skin. “Please.”

Merlin felt his heart leap, his arms tightening around Arthur’s shoulders. For just a moment, Merlin let himself revel in the feeling; to be wrapped in the arms of someone he loved, no more secrets or burdens standing between them. It was something Merlin never knew he could have. Arthur had proven him wrong.

Merlin leaned back, catching Arthur’s eyes with a soft smile. “Always,” he promised and smiled into their next kiss.


End file.
